


A Sick Melody.

by MiracleDreamer



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Real Person Fiction, Youtubers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Priests, Angst, Because he is an angel disguised as a devil tbh, Dark Magic, Demon!Bryce, Demons, Internal Conflict, M/M, Manipulation, Priest!Ohm, Religious Content, brohm, not too much tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiracleDreamer/pseuds/MiracleDreamer
Summary: Father Ryan holds a secret.Brock, a small child, holds a friend.With each day, the turmoil of the war closes in on them.There does not look like there is a silver lining.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was made late at night at 2AM. Why ? I'm not sure but its been in my head for a while. So have this! Ill keep this short and sweet because I have too many works that are unfinished.  
> Enjoy~

“Father, do you have any spare time?” A gentle voice from the old lady broke the silent atmosphere, Ryan opening his eyes. He tried not to look as pensive as he felt, his mood darkening with every second the ominous presence of something unholy seared its way into the church. Luckily, none of the other pedestrians could not feel it, abilities only someone with exorcism training could latch onto.

“Is something wrong?” He was told to be empathetic, a listener for the people in their dreary little town. They were basic rules he grew into, being the pastor’s son meaning he would have to become one after his father’s death. He didn’t mind it though, even when he felt the horrible creeping sensations of evil dripping in the corners of their town. It was getting worse by the day, times changing and Ryan wasn’t sure on how to approach it.

Everything was falling apart at the seams and he didn’t have the thread to stitch it back together again.

“My son keeps saying he sees this…thing behind him.” The woman was shaking, her lips pursed and eyes dark with displeasure. Ryan knew that look, one made by the fires of doubt and suspicion, topped off with unrelenting fear. It was blatant, obvious as the gears of war slowly hovered closer and closer to their in the middle of nowhere town. The officials Ryan talked with yesterday did their best to promise none of it would get closer, but Ryan didn’t believe them. The King was a sick man, he would to anything to make his borders expand, even if that meant at the cost of their village.

Their enemy was even worse.

“Take me to him, please.” He was curt, a whisper that was stern but the lady didn’t notice. She was probably too tired and stressed anyways. Instead, she turned and hobbled off to the direction of the grand doors that led to the outside of the church. Ryan’s boots clicked on the marble floor, passing pews and lingering townspeople who prayed hurriedly for their safety and family.

Ryan silently sent a prayer for the fifth time that day.

They slipped into the outside, Ryan squinting at the blinding sun. Unlike the inside of the church, the weather was airy, not one puff of cloud in the sky. The light blue contrasted deeply with the souls of the citizens, tense and weary for the gloomy days ahead. He smiled softly at the people who noticed and greeted him, hoping to calm their nerves, even if it was just for a bit.

“This way, Father.” Ryan turned back to the task in hand, black robes following after him as he trailed after the woman. They moved onto a dirt path, Ryan feeling a bit more lighter when he saw the kids. They were giggly and playing games with a ball, completely sheltered from the events happening outside their town. Ryan hoped it stayed like that a while more, the thought of their frightened faces as a battle swirled at the borders of their village making him clasp his hands around the silver cross dangling from his neck.

They arrived at their destination, a brick abode with a child sitting on the stairs. The lady beckoned the child towards her, who scrambled up and looked up at Ryan in awe. He faintly recalled seeing the precious child in the church on Sundays, diligently listening to him read from the Bible. He was a shy one, not one to talk but gladly followed the other kids around, trailing after them like an excited puppy. The name Brock sparked in Ryan’s mind, the boy stating it a while back when he finally played with the kids instead of watching them from afar.

“He’s been feeling strange, Father. He also says someone has been talking to him,” The woman explained, her frown expressing her worry…or irritation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best, Edith.” Ryan flushed lightly, only now remembering the woman’s name. He’s seen her countless of times, their village knowing everyone and everything. However, the woman rarely ever spoke to him, more focused on her odd habits of locking herself in her basement and letting her son run amok. It was a miracle that her son was born kind and obedient, a sweet thing that was lucky to have his family’s cousin take care of him more than his own mother.

Ryan crouched down, at eye level with Brock. The boy took a step back, eyes wide and innocent. The mother stepped back as well, mumbling something about a smoke and off she went, leaving them both in the dust. Ryan didn’t care, eyes narrowing at her lack of care for her son. The only reason as to why she cared in the first place, Ryan assumed, was that she thought her son was speaking to demons. He hardly knew her but she bad a reputation in the gossip of many women of being strongly religious, almost to the point of borderline hysteria for her god.

“Brock.” He started simple, stating his name and Brock nodded in reply. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine, Father Ryan.” His voice was barely there, a whisper that Ryan strained to hear. The boy dropped his hands to his sides, fingers unconciously twisting his shirt’s fabric.

“You’re not in trouble, Brock. I just want to know who you’re talking with.” Ryan stood back up, a warm smile making its way on his face. Brock’s smile was shaky, yet it was there nonetheless. He lent out his hand, Brock taking it and soon they were making their way back to the church.

“I don’t know if I should tell…He might get mad at me…” Brock trailed off, hesitant and stopping in his tracks. Ryan halted with him. The church doors right in front of them. He peered into the ajar doors and noticed the last few people left, leaving the church in a chilly hue of silence. He slipped in with Brock at his side, the two of them making themselves comfortable at one of the pews.

“You can tell me anything, Brock. I won’t tell a word to anyone else.” To emphasize his promise, Ryan stuck out his pinky, a pinky promise. Brock’s smile was revived, his own pinky brought up to latch it onto the man’s. A simple promise made that Ryan knew he would have to keep, for the idea of breaking this child’s heart was something he didn’t want to do, espcially with the thundering clouds of war nearing them.

“Well…he’s very tall. He has really nice blue eyes and blonde hair! Oh, and he has wings!” Brock started enthusiastically, hands coming to gesture at all the parts. “He talks a lot about cats, and he has a tail too!” He pauses, Ryan’s brow furrowing as the dark feeling in his gut grows stronger. He immediately stands up, eyes scanning the area. Some candles suddenly wink out, dead and Ryan reaches for the gun with salt bullets instinctively. Brock is still sitting there, humming softly with eyes full of unidentifiable emotions.

Finally, all the fires burning on the candles are burned out. The church gets colder, the heavy feeling of a demonic intruder in the holy building. The statue of Jesus in front of the church grows into something useless and Ryan feels his mouth go dry.

“He’s here.” Brock smiled, looking towards the front of the church. Ryan dared a glance and gasped, soon a growl ripping from his throat. It was inhumane, yet much more human that what he was looking at.

There, sitting on the alter, was a demon.

He looked young for a demon, eyes dark and yet vibrant. On his head were horns, resting there cozily. His tail was flickering from side to side, his legs trying to dangle from his perch but he was too tall to do such a thing. His clothes were stained with dried blood, his hands wrapped with bandages. The one thing that completely gave away to his demonic origins was his wings. Dark, leathery wings with holes at the ends. They looked painful, yet his lips only carried a smile, his top canine teeth sticking out to give him a more sinister look.

He chuckled, looking at Ryan with a playful smirk. With an acknowledging glance towards Brock, he said, “Hey there, Princey.”

Ryan’s blood ran cold, his confidence pricking and the demon knew it very well. He added on, a happy smile on his face. “I hope you’re ready for what’s in store, because it doesn’t look so well, Princey!”


	2. A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about this demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll for this, wow! Anyways, enjoy~

“You can’t just kill me, Princey~” 

His voice was like honey, appealing and dripping, yet Ryan wasn’t much for sweet things. He could ingulge in the attractiveness to it, the calming and inviting lilt as he sat there with a sinister curl to his smile. This was how sins started, buried deep in someone like the demon sitting on the alter and backoning poor little spirits lost from the path to God towards the ugly wrongness called hell.

“You’re a demon,” Ryan stated bluntly, holding his gun to point at the creature. “I’m an exorcist. I think I should be able to do so easily.”

“Just because you and your stupid frickin’ secret think you’re all that, you really aren’t.” He was blunt, his playfulness diminishing and replaced with hot annoyance. The demon’s tail flickered, pointing at Brock, who sat there with puzzlement written on his face. “Besides, would you really shoot me with Brock here? I don’t think that’s a good idea on your side, Princey~”

“Stop calling me that,” Ryan scowled, flinching with every time the nickname rolled off the creature’s lips. It hit too close to home, too close to the truth slipping past his well-made defenses. It reminded him of the long nights of arguing between his parents, to the papers and papers written in pretty cursive about his actual birth, his real origins and the true reason as to why the whole war started.

He was a horrible link to everything that was close to spilling into the town he’s loved and lived in.

“No need to be like that, Ryan. I’m just trying to give you a wake-up call!” The demon giggled, his mood shifting into something more childlike and peppy. It was a ruse, something to make Ryan’s skin crawl with uncertainty and fear. “All I’m saying is that, life would be much more easier if you just told everyone the truth~”

“Bryce?” Brock’s voice made Ryan jump, accidentally pulling the trigger. The demon dived out of the way, falling onto the marble floor in great haste to not let something holy hit him. The bullet shattered straight into the head of Jesus, sputtering with salt and chipping half of the stone that made the right side of Jesus’ head.

Ryan gasped and rushed over, ceramic chips fallen on the floor. The demon hovered around him, humming as he inspected the damage. “How tragic, Princey. It’s like it’s an omen to your demise!”

“Bryce!” The two turned around, Ryan biting his tongue to stop himself from swearing at the demon. He wasn’t perturbed by the fact that Ryan hit a statue of Jesus, one made by the best sculptor from the village, one made specifically out of dedication and devotion to the church and their ways. Sadly, the woman died and now Ryan would have to bring it to the city for a new one.

However, times weren’t well enough for him to leave.

“Brock? Did you miss me?” The demon turned, his smile actually softening at the sight of the child. He nodded, jumping to his feet and walking to be in front of the sinful creature. Ryan gave the demon-Bryce- a warning glare, silently daring him to even touch the child.

“I did! I wanted to ask why you haven’t visited as much!” Brock was excited, his pure smile in full volume as he happily talked to Bryce. Ryan felt an unease at this, praying that nothing like rituals and ideas out of the realm of the church were jumbling in his head.

“I’m sorry about that, I was busy! I’m a very busy person, even if I’m dead!” He tipped his head back and laughed, very much unlike himself a few minutes ago when he was talking to Ryan. The priest didn’t let it get to him, instead resuming his task and placing all the broken pieces into a small bowl. 

“But, I did bring you this as a gift!” Ryan snapped a glance back at their interactions, watching as Bryce poofed out a puppy, a stuffed puppy, from his hand, ones with long nails painted a deep purple. Upon closer inspection to his clothes, he realized much of what he wore was a deep purple, stained with blotches of blood everywhere, bandages even circling his neck.

Brock gasped, reaching out to snatch the puppy. It was cute, a soft brown and looked delicate, its pink tongue sticking out. Ryan almost stole the puppy away, for a second thinking the thing was an actual stuffed puppy. However, it didn’t have such features, the priest relaxing and he closed his eyes.

A mistake.

“You shouldn’t let your guard down around me, Princey~” The demon’s breath ghosted right near his ear, a warmth of body heat much too warm to be a human’s behind him. He startled and turned around, the demon still smiling away without a care to the world, for this wasn’t his turf. He was one made for the underworld, one that infested dreams and weakened the already weakened, hoping to scrape them into a side not worth it.

“I should kill you already.” Ryan gritted out, eyes narrowing as Bryce hovered in front of him. Brock stood behind Bryce, tugging insistently at his clothes and halting Bryce from retorting with a strong remark.

“Bryce, maybe it’s better to leave the Father alone? He’s had a rough day today…” Brock looked down, avoiding the gazes of two people on widely different spectrums. If it weren’t for him, his innocence towards the whole situation, thinking it was perfectly fine to talk to Ryan, a man who loved the church and anything to do with such religion, and to talk with Bryce, a demon standing against everything the church offered with underling inentions that Ryan knew would be there. 

“I was going to, Brock! Until he started with his little whimsical lies!” Even with the smile he was terrifying, his wicked presence not withering and instead bringing more wisps of confidence in him.

“They’re not lies, demon,” Ryan spat, holding at his cross with the other hand steadily ready with his gun.

Bryce met his eyes, a surprised look crossing his features before he burst into a fit of giggles again. His giggles died out only when Ryan’s shocked glare morphed into an irritated scowl. He snapped his fingers, fire sparking to life and soon the candles were burning bright again. Bryce tucked the stray strands of hair that fell in front of his face back behind his ear, closing his wings and settling his feet on the ground.

Bryce walked to stand directly in front of the man, not minding the small sting of the cross shown to his face. Ryan felt intimidated, the demon indeed taller and giving him a pretty yet manipulative smile.

“You can’t kill me easily, Princey. I’m the Devil’s son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I totally didn't expect that :^ )
> 
> Tumblr: fantasyeuphoriaandlace

**Author's Note:**

> I'm experimenting here with this honestly. Also, new chapter later tonight ? Possible and probably.
> 
> Tumblr: fantasyeuphoriaandlace


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